


(just a dog with no bite)

by bansheeteeth



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Character Study, Gen, for most of it anyways :), im sorry i take anime men too seriously. i didnt mean to ;-;, its only rated t bc i like to say fuck : ), pre-persona awakening, um. not listing any warnings bc stuffs not graphic whatsoever but. his dads there so. yknow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26263423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bansheeteeth/pseuds/bansheeteeth
Summary: Teeth grit, blood pumps, eyes go bloodshot, and there’s nowhere left to put his rage except deep in a pit of his own design.~Ryuji character study, focusing on his relationship to his anger and the helplessness that comes with it~
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	(just a dog with no bite)

**_You made me wait quite a while._ **

His mom had sworn up and down that switching middle schools would stop the rumors, but Ryuji knew better. Kids talk, and why wouldn't they talk about the fact that that annoying new kid always shows up to school with a new bruise and red eyes? The rumors were inevitable like pain was inevitable. Ryuji'd accepted both as normal parts of his life, by now.

He thought so, anyway.

Truly, though, it was almost impressive how quickly the other kids caught on. If it didn't make his blood boil to hear the hushed whispers about his family, he might've even congratulated them on being such smartasses.

She was the only one to look at him. To really, _really_ look, not stare or glance or gawk--and she wasn't treated much better. Sure, there weren't a million rumors about her dad beating the shit out of her, but she was despised thoroughly, too, in her own way.

_That Takamaki, what a snob._

_Did you see Sakamoto this morning? He had a black eye!_

_She's a slut. You can tell just by looking at her. I don't want her anywhere near me, I can't imagine how you survive class with her._

_I heard his family's super messed up. His dad is, like, on drugs or something, I think._

For so long they'd made every effort to avoid one another--the two most infamous kids in school, buddy-buddy? Complete social suicide. They would pass in the halls and look at each other--the only time either child actually felt recognized as a human being in that school--but say nothing. A shared nod, maybe a weak smile, and on their way they went.

That changed after a rainy day in June, two months after Ryuji's transfer. He hadn't even really been sure what he was seeing--a group of boys cornering her in the hallways between classes, probably trying their best to flirt. Not too unusual a sight--Takamaki seemed to deal with this sort of thing regularly and frequently sidestepped creeps with as much ease as one could expect from a 13-year-old kid.

But this time, Ryuji saw it on her face--nervousness, discomfort, anxiety.

Before he knew it he was approaching, walking rapidly to the other side of the hallway, then sprinting when she tells them to leave her alone.

When he gets there he has no idea what to say, not really. He moved purely on instinct, but backing down isn't an option, not now that he's there.

_Leave her alone, she doesn't wanna talk to you. Obviously._

Turns out, a kid covered in bruises and a busted lip strolling up and telling you to leave was enough for most people to clear out pretty quick.

Still, they always had so much to say.

_Should’ve just kicked his ass. He’s always all fucked up anyway._

_Hell, no. Dude probably knows how to fight. He’s always all bandaged up._

_A guy who knows how to fight doesn’t look_ that _messed up. Nah, he gets the shit kicked out of him._

Fists clenched at his sides so hard the half-moon of his nails make an indent in his palm. He’s so _angry_ , but mostly tired of hearing about how fucked up he is. He already _knows_.

A hand grasps the back of his uniform before he can storm off after the boys.

_Don’t._

Teeth clench as hard as hands, and the anger shoots through him like a rocket, but he relents anyway, whipping around to be met with a stern look, ice blue eyes piercing and hard.

_I had it under control. Didn’t need you to do that._

He’s still so angry, _so_ angry, mostly because he knows he’s too much of a loser to actually _do_ anything. Kids talk and talk and talk, and he just takes it, and takes it, and takes it. Teeth grit, blood pumps, eyes go bloodshot, and there’s nowhere left to put his rage except deep in a pit of his own design.

Deep breaths. One, two, three.

_Sorry ‘bout that._

*

**_You seek power, correct? Then let us form a pact._ **

Ryuji decides at eight that he needs to be strong. 

He’s not exactly sure why--he just knows that he wants to make his mom feel better, and being big and tough should help with that, right?

So he eats his veggies, drinks his milk, runs faster and further on the playground than any other kid. He tries really hard in school, even though he’s not very good at it. He tries to make friends, too, but that never pans out. 

That’s fine, though. He’s used to being alone.

Mom had been nursing bruises for a while. She was clumsy, always running into stuff and falling down stairs and getting herself injured. _You know me and my two left feet_ , she’d say, and Ryuji believed her for a very long time.

And then he couldn’t anymore.

He could never recall what it had looked like--it happened too quick, too sudden--but the sound stayed with him. Stinging and sharp, like the crack of a whip, ringing out and vibrating his bones. A hiss, a scream, a thud, and then his mom was crumpled on the floor, holding her cheek.

The tears are hot and rolling in a second, and Ryuji’s filled with hatred he’s never known before. He’s scared, too, and confused, and worried, but mostly he’s _angry_.

Ryuji charges this man, this _stranger_. He doesn’t know why he does, but he does. He’s the best at arm-wrestling in his whole grade. 

_Ryuji, please don’t._

She’s crying. He hadn’t seen her do that since grandma passed. He got a star and a smiley face on his spelling test.

There’s a sting of pain and then the slam of the door. Ryuji’s so mad he barely notices he’s been struck. He set a new record on the monkey bars at school.

_Please, don’t._

Ryuji’s reaching for the handle of the door, ready to run and fight and scream because his blood is boiling so loud and hot he can hear it. This is being strong. To protect people you care about. He helped one of his classmates find her lost doll.

_Ryuji._

She sounds so tired, even with tears making a lump form in her throat. He lost a tooth playing dodgeball.

Ryuji sits next to his mom for a very, very long time.

*

**_Since your name has been disgraced already, why not hoist the flag and wreak havoc? The other you who exists within desires it thus._ **

Nobody talks to him anymore, though it shouldn’t be much of a surprise. Things were different for a little bit when practice first started and everyone realized that he could fly around a track in no time flat. For once people _wanted_ to talk to him, to be his friend, to invite him out for beef bowls and trips to the gym.

Yeah. That didn’t last long, in the grand scheme of things.

Ryuji’s royally fucked--always has been, he guesses, that’s what everyone’s always said--but having a visual to prove it just feels like beating a dead horse at this point. Dragging himself around on crutches and bound to a cast nobody would dare sign. It’s so on the nose, so _obvious_ that Ryuji almost feels like laughing.

Bones heal, though. Mostly, anyway. But reputation sticks around forever, even when you’re not carrying around a 20-pound reminder on your leg of how much of a fuck-up you are.

For a while Ryuji tries to tell his side of the story--the _truth_ , what _really_ happened in that equipment shed--but nobody’ll hear it. Kamoshida’s word is law, as far as the students and staff of Shujin are concerned, and Ryuji’s considered a nuisance at best, an assailant at worst.

So….he stops. It takes a long time for him to stop trying to convince people what actually went down at track practice and why Kamoshida took a bat to his leg, but being ignored enough times will deter anyone, eventually.

_Why’s he even allowed at this school anymore? He’s scary._

_Kamoshida’s too kind to not get him expelled. I feel bad he has to see Sakamoto’s face every day._

_I heard he has a single mom. Dad used to beat the shit out of them or something. Pretty messed up that he turned out like his old man._

_I wish he’d just go away. I hate when he walks by, I always feel like he’s going to jump me or something._

It hurts at first, but it’s a familiar pain. It doesn’t take long to fall back into his old habits of ignoring everyone around him as much as he possibly can. Hard to do when he hears his name flying all over the damn hallways, though.

At first he still tries his best in school, even if his best only gets him in the 50th percentile. But that gets old really quick when teachers stop making eye contact with him, only speaking to him to scold him or remind him how much of a disappointment he is. He’s branded _troublemaker_ , and now even Ryuji kinda believes it, too.

So he leans into it.

His limp helps his image, he thinks. Sure, everyone already knows how he got it, but Ryuji feels like it makes him look tougher than he actually feels. Pair it with furrowed brows and a scowl and he almost looks like he’s not playing pretend.

Still, while embracing pariahhood drives most away, it makes you an easy target for confrontation for people who hate your guts enough. Ryuji learns that the hard way.

_It’s really such a shame you threw away your future like that, Sakamoto. You could’ve gotten plenty of scholarships, I’m sure._

_You’re really fucked up, you know that?_

_You ruined everything for us._

_I wish you’d just leave this school. We’d be better off without you._

Ryuji tries his best to push down his anger. He already knows there’s nothing he can do, already _knows_ the consequences of letting his anger take control. The ache in his leg reminds him every day of this fact, whether he wants it to or not. He’s powerless to do anything but sit there and take it, and the smart thing to do would be to just brush it all off and fly under the radar.

But he’s never been the smartest kid, has he?

Every day he gets home from school shaking, with fists clenched so tight his knuckles turn white. Teeth grit, and his blood boils so hot he feels like a cartoon character with steam coming out his ears, but he can’t help it. Everything’s just so goddamn _unfair_ , and then he gets even madder remembering there’s nothing he can even _do_ about it.

_Sometimes, all we can change is ourselves._

Something his mom had told him once, after she finally left dad. She’d tried to fix that man for _so long_ , but she was right. Sometimes, you could only change yourself. 

So he does.

Ryuji decides to take her advice. Half a bottle of shitty off-brand bleach and a razor blade to his eyebrows, and Ryuji feels relief, if only for a moment.

 _Something_ he can change. _Something_ he can control.

He knows he’s only gonna get more shit for this, and he can still feel that barely pent-up rage roiling around his stomach like a monster, but he really, really doesn’t care.

He has an image to lean into, and by god, he’s fucking _leaned_.

*

**_I am thou, thou art I. There is no turning back._ **

Ryuji knows he's made a mistake the moment he takes a swing.

In the milliseconds between wind-up and impact, it becomes so _painfully_ obvious Kamoshida had been baiting him. Between brutal practices, verbal abuse, and now bringing up his dad in front of all the other guys, it becomes clear that that was a perfectly constructed concoction meant to push every single one of Ryuji's buttons. Ordering him to the equipment shed for a one-on-one talk about his performance--or more accurately, a bullying session poking at all of Ryuji’s insecurities--was more of a formality, a way to speed things along. Kamoshida’d been counting on Ryuji to pop off at some point, and it seems he’d grown tired of waiting.

Ryuji had been working hard, _so hard_ to hold in his anger, his rage at the world. Running helped like nothing else, so that's what Ryuji did. He ran and ran and ran until his legs would give out and he couldn't feel the blood pounding in his ears anymore.

But Kamoshida had him pegged from the start, didn't he? He could probably see the dissatisfaction and anger swirling around Ryuji like a barely contained tornado, despite the boisterous disposition the track team knew him for. The natural defiant streak in him had probably been what tipped Kamoshida off, or maybe it was the way Ryuji’d grit his teeth and turn away when Kamoshia would bully a teammate. It doesn’t really matter what had made his anger so obvious, in the end. The result was the same.

Basically, he'd been an easy target, and Ryuji feels so, so stupid.

Ryuji's swing is clumsy, whole body shaking and seething with rage, but Kamoshida leans into it with a grin.

The punch has a surprising amount of force to it--it's a strong one, right in the jaw, forceful enough to make Kamoshida stagger backward a bit. But that just makes him grin wider, predatory and devilish.

_My turn._

Ryuji's shoved _hard_ , flying into the cold aluminum of the equipment shed's walls. Tennis rackets and basketballs topple off their shelves, clattering to the floor. Ryuji wheezes at the impact as the air gets knocked out of his lungs.

He's trying to get his bearings, to get up to defend himself, but he can barely _breathe_ , let alone find strength to stand and continue this fight.

And then Kamoshida's reaching down to pick up a bat. A wicked grin shows canines too sharp, eyes shining too bright.

_This'll do._

Ryuji knows what's going to happen before Kamoshida takes the swing. He's not sure how he knows, but he does. It just seems perfect, doesn't it? The one thing he's good at, the one thing that makes him feel normal, taken away in the blink of an eye all because he couldn't hold in his rage, and there's not a goddamm fucking thing he can _do_ about it.

Yeah. Sounds about right.

Ryuji holds his breath, screws his eyes shut, and braces for impact. There is no turning back.

*

**_The skull of rebellion is your flag henceforth._ **

The pain is white-hot in a way Ryuji’s not even sure how to describe. Nothing’s wrong with him _physically_ \--no scratches, bruises, or broken bones--but there's pain nonetheless, coursing through his veins like his blood is on fire.

He screams. He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t help it. All his nerve synapses are firing at once, so fast he feels like he can _hear_ their thrumming, can _hear_ the pain itself. It comes in sharp zaps and shocks, sending him spasming on the floor in a pathetic heap of tears and screams and mess of a boy.

The pain doesn’t stop, and the crackling zaps still dance over his skin, but there’s something new. It comes all at once, seemingly appearing out of nowhere and startling him enough to stop his screaming.

Cold, heavy metal covering his face.

He grins, all wicked teeth, and grips the bottom of the mask.

"Let’s fuck ‘em up, Captain!"

And then Ryuji’s ripping off his own face.

Lighting dances around him, sending white-hot sparks flying all around the room and no doubt covering Kamoshida’s precious royal red carpet in singes. The air crackles with electricity, and Ryuji’s skin does, too. He’s a live wire, brighter than the sun and twice as dangerous.

And when he stares down Kamoshida he grins again, frenzied with bloodlust and anger and _power_. Too sharp canines, too bright eyes dancing with sparks.

"My turn."

For the first time in his life, Ryuji allows the rage to wash over him. It sends arcs of lighting bouncing around him, seeking contact with any who would dare make themselves his foe. The crackle on his own skin makes his hair stand on end, but he doesn’t _care_ how weird and confusing and kinda freaky all this shit is.

Because now, after everything he’s ever been through, he can finally bite back.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this with a song in mind if you're interested in listening. it's called 'fences' by destroy boys, and the title of this is pulled from a lyric in the chorus (i realize it's also just a common phrase but let me have this lmao).  
> anyways, my favorite things to read are character studies, so i thought i'd try my hand at examining ryuji and his relationship with anger, especially since it's implied pre-awakening he was holding back a lot in his life.  
> so yeah. hope u enjoyed, thanks for reading! : )


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